


Lillebror Bakeri

by lepetitfromage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, M/M, Music, many pastries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepetitfromage/pseuds/lepetitfromage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthias didn't think he'd find an authentic Scandinavian bakery in this city, but when he stumbled across the Lillebror Bakeri he found himself enticed by the pastries - and staying for the rather beautiful man running it. With the man's little brother playing matchmaker, Matthias figured he could handle a little Björk if it meant getting to know Lukas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Matthias wondered why he’d never been to this side of the neighborhood. Really, the bakery he stood in front of was down the street a ways from the university campus, and Matthias tended to skirt the campus as much as possible.

            Lillebror Bakeri, the sign read. A Norwegian flag hung proudly over a scalloped blue awning. A flowerbox was attached to the windowsill, colorful and flourishing. Autumn kept the bakery’s patrons inside, but Matthias imagined the patio’s metal bistro furniture occupied in warmer weather. It was after noon and Matthias entered the bakery.

            Björk.

            Björk was playing through the speakers.

            A young man sat hunched over the register. He held his chin in a hand, elbow on the light marble counter. He looked bored.

            Matthias directed his attention to the glass cases showcasing the pastries. He smiled upon seeing some familiar pastries and examined the unfamiliar ones, intrigued. The Danishes attracted him first: braids, pinwheels, spirals, and filled pastries; some with a simple glazed sheen, some stuffed and topped with creams, custards, and fruit jams. His eyes roamed hungrily over Kringles, punsch-rolls, Skolebrød, Swedish scones, and more. Many featured apple and lingonberry fillings, almond glazes, and rum infusions (those ones all seemed to be Finnish).

            “Hey,” the teenager at the register greeted, nodding his head to the music. “What do you want?”

            Matthias didn’t even mind the kid’s rather unprofessional manner, he was too distracted by the food. He ordered a braided Danish, filled with vanilla custard and topped with almond slivers.

            The boy put it in a paper bag and all but tossed it across the counter to him.

            “Four eighty-five,” he said.

            Another man appeared from what Matthias supposed was the kitchen. Flour was lightly dusted at the rolled up cuffs on his shirtsleeves. The man smacked the boy at the back of his head and said, “That’s not the way to talk to customers. Go wipe down tables.”

            Blank-faced, the boy skirted the counter without complaint.

            “Sorry,” the man in front of him said. “He’s sixteen, my little brother, and not used to working.”

            Matthias laughed lightly. “That’s all right. I’m just glad I found this place.”

            The man quirked an eyebrow. “Really.”

            Matthias grinned. “Being a real Dane, it’s been ages since I’ve had a real Danish.”

            The man looked him up and down. As Matthias watched him study him, he noticed that the man had deep blue eyes framed by pale eyelashes. They were rather… beautiful. His sleek, pale hair – lighter than his eyelashes –brushed over high cheekbones.

            “Uh.” Matthias coughed. “Do you… bake everything?” he asked, gesturing helpfully to his flour-dusted sleeves.

            “Not everything,” the man replied. “But I did make your Danish.”

            Matthias’ brows rose.

            “I remember distinctly making the custard for that exact Danish. I sliced those almonds by hand.”

            Matthias laughed nervously. “Aha… you, uh, you didn’t…”

            The corner of the man’s lips quirked up and he smirked. “No. I didn’t.” He turned back toward the kitchen and from over his shoulder said, “Enjoy.”

            A little stunned by the man’s dry wit, Matthias mechanically sat at a nearby table and all thoughts were reprioritized when he pulled out his pastry.

            Before he could take the first bite, the boy from the register slid gracefully into the seat across from him, elbow on table, chin in hand. His gaze was flat, unamused – just like his older brother’s.

            “So, hey,” he said.

            Matthias looked at him. “Hi.”

            “My name’s Emil.”

            “Matthias,” he replied warily.

            “Nice to meet you. Enjoying that?” he indicated to Matthias’ pastry with a flick of his eyes, similar in color to his brother’s.

            “Um, yeah.”

            “So were you, like, trying to flirt with Lukas?”

            Matthias blinked. “Ah, Lukas?”

            “My brother. Were you trying to flirt or something?”

            Matthias scoffed. “No. Why would you think that?”

            Emil’s expression never shifted. “I could hear every word.” Finally, his lips curled up. “It’s no big deal. People flirt with Lukas all the time. Apparently he’s pretty or something.”

            Well, Matthias couldn’t fault him that one. He _was_ a little embarrassed at being caught though.

            “He’s totally gay, so you’re fine there.”

            “Ah, what–”

            “What are you, like bi? You look like you could be bi.”

            Matthias tried to find words. “Um–”

            “I’m sorry. Am I being – what does Lukas call it? – rude?”

            Matthias scratched the back of his head and smiled bemusedly. “No, uh, you’re fine.”

            “Lukas says I don’t have a filter sometimes.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me any if you think I’m weird. I get it.”

            Matthias smiled, finding himself liking the kid, strangely enough. “Seriously, it’s okay. Why are you, uh,” he paused, trying to find a polite way to say it, “asking me questions?”

            “You mean why am I being invasive? Because I like playing matchmaker for Lukas from time to time.”

            Matthias almost choked on his pastry.

            “Sorry, I’m being blunt again. Hey I have a proposition for you. Come back tomorrow at four-thirty. We close at four but I’ll let you in. There’s something I want to show you.”

            Matthias cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure that’s okay? No offense, but I don’t really know you, and you don’t really know me.”

            Emil shrugged. “You seem cool. And Lukas likes you.”

            His eyes widened. “Wait, how do you know that?”

            “Because he was being sarcastic. He doesn’t like to expend that kind of energy and effort if he wasn’t into someone.”

            Matthias supposed that made sense, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d only exchanged a few words with Lukas – and Emil’s personality almost flip-flopped completely from when he’d walked in. But Matthias wasn’t one to judge, and as long as there were more Danishes to try…

            “You done with that? I’ll throw that away for you,” Emil said as he crumpled his pastry bag and tossed it in the nearby trash. “Remember, four-thirty.”

            “Uh, yeah, thanks,” Matthias managed as Emil walked him to the door, all but shoving him outside. He looked back at the door Emil just shut behind him. He supposed he’d return tomorrow at four-thirty.

 

            Matthias knocked on the door of the Lillebror Bakeri and he’d barely retracted his hand when Emil swung the door open.

            “Matthias, _halló_.”

            “Um, _hej_.”

            “Come in, we just finished cleaning up.”

            Matthias followed him inside. The place was clean and empty and he was answering Emil’s barrage of questions. How was his day? Was he a student? No? What did he do?

            “How do you get your hair to do that?” he asked, miming with his hand the way Matthias’ hair stuck up in the front.

            Matthias laughed. “It kind of just does it on its own.”

            “Oh. I wish mine did something like that. It’s always flat.”

            “So what are we doing exactly?” Matthias asked. He could vaguely hear the sounds of music coming from the kitchen. Was that an acoustic guitar?

            “On Fridays after closing we all jam in the back for a few hours.”

            Emil pushed open the kitchen doors and Matthias was surprised. The kitchen was bigger than he’d imagined. On one side of the kitchen was the typical bakery kitchen set-up, but the other side was completely open. Some chairs were set up around a low coffee table and that was where three other people were currently seated.

            Matthias recognized Lukas, but then there were two other blonds he didn’t.

            The three of them swung their gazes toward him.

            “Hey guys, this is Matthias,” Emil introduced him.

            The smiling blond greeted him as if they’d been friends for years. The more severe looking blond simply raised his hand in a small wave. Lukas slanted Emil a look.

            “Emil,” he said flatly.

            “What? No one said we weren’t allowed to bring friends.”

            “I didn’t think you had friends.”

            “ _Rass._ You remember Matthias from yesterday.”

            Lukas looked to Matthias and he recalled what Emil had said: _Apparently, he’s pretty or something._

Well, the people who said that were certainly right. His pale hair fell like a waterfall and was tucked behind one ear. It looked soft.

            “I do. The Dane, right?”

            Matthias grinned and nodded.

            The smaller blond laughed. “Our Nordic group is completed then. I’m Tino, by the way. I’m Finnish,” he mentioned helpfully to Matthias. He nudged the larger man next to him with his shoulder. “This is Berwald. He’s Swedish.”

            Berwald had an acoustic guitar propped on his thigh, his arm draped over it and his other hand poised on the neck.

            “I’m Icelandic,” Emil said.

            Matthias raised a brow and looked from Emil to Lukas. “Icelandic?” It wasn’t every day he met Icelanders.

            “ _He’s_ Icelandic,” Lukas corrected. “I’m Norwegian.”

            “Different dads, you know,” Emil finished for him.

            Matthias figured that was a story he’d get later, as Lukas reached down to pick up another acoustic guitar next to his chair.

            “I suppose Emil brought you here for this?” he asked.

            Matthias smiled. This was a subject he could entertain. “If I’d known you guys were jamming I would have brought my violin.”

            “The guy plays violin,” Emil interjected. “He’s perfect.”

            Lukas cocked a brow. “Do you? Maybe you should bring it next time.”

            Matthias grinned, and a warm feeling spread through his stomach. _Next time_.

            “I don’t think we’ve jammed with a violin before, have we Ber?”

            Berwald shook his head. “Not in a while,” he said. His voice was not so surprisingly low and rumbling.

            Emil nodded and told Matthias, “Lukas and Berwald duel on guitar–”

            “We do not duel, we harmonize,” Lukas mumbled.

            “And Tino sings sometimes.”

            Tino nodded and said, “Berwald sings too, don’t you?”

            Berwald was suddenly much more interested in fingering the frets, though he nodded slightly. Tino laughed. Matthias wondered if there was something going on there.

            “Well, we _all_ sing sometimes. Tino more often than not,” Emil finished.

            “What do you guys jam?” Matthias asked Lukas. He was seated next to Lukas, wondering vaguely if that weren’t purposeful on Emil’s part.

            “We’ll take turns choosing popular songs. Often we’ll freestyle.”

            Matthias loved freestyling. He hadn’t had the opportunity to find a group to play with since he moved to the city so he was eagerly looking forward to next Friday. He told them as much and everyone seemed equally as eager to welcome him back the following week. Well, Tino seemed eager. Berwald and Lukas tended to be more modest in their expressions, Matthias was finding out.

            “So, Berwald, are you going to start us off?” Emil said. “Berwald does acoustic renditions of ABBA.”

            Berwald looked like he did not appreciate that and glared at him before a titter came from Tino.

            “Mamma Mia is surprisingly nice on guitar,” he said, placing a hand on Berwald’s shoulder.

            “Why doesn’t Berwald choose what he wants to start with,” Lukas said pointedly toward his brother.

            Emil shrugged.

            When they did decide on a song and Berwald began playing, Matthias watched in fascination as Lukas listened, his back slightly hunched over his guitar. He tapped his foot to Berwald’s timing and then joined him.

            When Lukas started playing Matthias couldn’t take his eyes off him. His head bobbed slightly to the beat, his hair glimmering in the lights. Matthias faced his profile and his eyes were downcast on his guitar, those pale eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. All the lines of his face were strong; the straight slant of his nose, the sharp curves of his lips, and the defined line of his jaw. Though his face was otherwise relaxed. His brows weren’t furrowed in concentration nor his mouth screwed up in focus – like Matthias did himself when he played.

            Sometimes he barely registered Tino singing, though Tino was a great singer and he smiled whenever his and Berwald’s eyes met.

            Berwald plucked the last note and it hung in the air for a few seconds before he shifted, adjusted his glasses, and looked up to the group.

            “Where’s Emil?” Tino asked.

            Matthias looked around. When had he left?

            “I’ve returned with provisions,” Emil said, pushing through the kitchen door. He was holding a platter of pastries.

            “Those are just today’s left overs,” Lukas said.

            “And that’s the glory of owning a bakery.”

            Emil offered Matthias a Danish and Matthias accepted with relish.

            “Do you guys make snitter?” he asked them.

            Bewilderment entered Lukas’s eyes. “Snitter?”

            “Hindbærsnitter.” Matthias laughed when Lukas continued to stare at him like he’d grown another head. “Are you telling me that you run a Scandinavian bakery and don’t know what hindbærsnitter is?”

            Emil bit into a Danish. “Aren’t they those pop-tart things?”

            “They are _not_ pop-tarts. Pop-tarts _wish_ they were hindbærsnitter.”

            Emil rolled his eyes. “Sure. So what’s the next song guys?”

            Matthias pouted and shoved the rest of his pastry into his mouth. He heard the sound of a soft snicker and found Lukas hiding a smile behind his hand.

            “You’ve got a little,” Lukas said, gesturing to his face to show where crumbs littered Matthias’s face.

            Matthias wiped his mouth with the napkins Emil brought in. He laughed and he felt that warm tug when he saw Lukas continue to smile as he watched him.

           

            The following week, Matthias entered the bakery once again. It was eight in the morning, but the bakery had already been open for an hour. And from the sound of it, the day was already going to be a long one.

            “For the love of God, Emil, I am not listening to Björk again,” Lukas said exasperatedly.

            “Too bad, it’s not your day to pick the music,” Emil retorted.

            “I thought Tuesdays were Sigur Rós days.”

            “I’m switching Sigur Rós day and Björk day. Sigur Rós will be on Thursday.”

            Lukas dragged his hands down his face. Matthias approached the counter.

            “What’s going on?” he asked.

            “Lukas just doesn’t appreciate fine Icelandic talent.”

            Lukas snapped his head up. “ _Fine_ talent?”

            “Hey, hey,” Matthias tried. “How about Fallulah?”

            Both boys stopped and stared at him.

            “Fallulah,” Lukas repeated dryly.

            “He’s got a point,” Emil said, looking suspiciously devious. “He’s been in here often enough, let him have a day to choose music.”

            Matthias’s cheeks heated, though he didn’t think Lukas picked up on that. At least he hoped.

            “Better yet,” Emil continued. “Why don’t you just hire him, Lukas? That way you don’t have to keep running between the kitchen and the shop.”

            “If you weren’t so lazy.” Lukas sighed, pausing. He gave Matthias a serious appraisal and Matthias swallowed. “If you accept you’ll have to deal with Emil.”

            “Hey, we’d make a great team,” Emil said, slinging and arm around Matthias’s shoulder. He tried to anyway; Matthias was a lot taller than the kid.

            Tino made a sudden appearance from the kitchen, mood cheerful, but he said, “Berwald says to just hire him already. Oh, and that he’s been working on a slew of Prinsesstarta cakes for three days and if any of you make him screw up his icing he’ll kick your ass.” The three of them stared at Tino. “His words.”

            Tino grinned, hummed, and disappeared into the kitchen.

            “Prinsesstarta?” Matthias asked.

            “It’s Prinsesstarta week,” Lukas said. “Berwald won’t let anyone else do the cakes, so he focuses solely on those for a majority of the week.”

            “So it sounds like you need some help around here,” Matthias said, grinning.

            Lukas huffed and rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Fine. You’re training under Emil for now, but since I don’t want him corrupting you with his bad work habits I’ll train you once the week is over. Can you stay for today?”

            “I’m not doing anything today.”

            “Good. I’ve got to finish the cookies. Don’t put too much stock in what Emil says.”

            Emil let out another Icelandic expletive under his breath.

            “And Matthias?”

            Matthias looked up at him again, watching his lips quirk up at the corner.

            “Thanks.”

            Warmth burst and fluttered in Matthias’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on FF.
> 
> There's a Scandinavian bakery near my school, so this happened, naturally.
> 
> This was my first attempt at writing - and even extensively thinking - about the Nordics, so it was a nice little experiment.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	2. Part 2

The Friday after Matthias was abruptly hired found him selling pastry after pastry, weaving easily around Emil in a well-established rhythm. Emil had him on the register more often, saying something about Matthias's more customer-friendly personality. And true to form, Matthias managed to get each of his customers to smile and laugh. Four 'o'clock was approaching and the stream of customers was trickling.

The last customers were two cheery young women expecting a Prinsesstarta order. Matthias poked into the kitchen. Lukas and Tino were rolling out the last of the dough in preparation for the next day. Berwald was piping the last bit of icing on a lavender Prinsesstarta.

"Ber, is that ready to go?" he asked.

Berwald closed the ring around the base and sat back and nodded. "Done."

Matthias boxed it and carried it out to the front.

"Here you go, ladies," he said with a grin. They grinned back and made a bit more small talk with him.

We haven't seen you here before, are you new?

Are you a student?

What's your favorite pastry? Oh, I love those too!

"I'm sorry, but we're closing," a voice said over his shoulder. Matthias looked back and was met with the flat gaze of Lukas.

The girls smiled politely and made their way out, glancing once more toward Matthias before walking away.

"Hey, are you finished?" Matthias asked him. Matthias was beginning to decode Lukas's range of flat looks. This one meant Matthias had done something… questionable. "What?" he asked.

"Start cleaning," he simply said, throwing a rag at him and walking back into the kitchen, arms folded.

Matthias joined Emil in wiping down the tables. "What's with him?"

Emil gave him a look that mirrored Lukas's.

"What?" he exclaimed. "I'm out of the loop here."

Emil shook his head, huffing out a laugh. "It's nothing."

"What's so funny?"

"You are, sometimes."

Matthias pouted and finished the tables in record time.

It was Friday night, and Matthias would have been looking forward to jam night, but it was cancelled. Tino's parents were in town and wanted to have dinner. Of course, Berwald was going too, and the remaining three agreed that rescheduling would be best. So when everyone finished cleaning Tino expressed apologies and good evenings to everyone and it was down to three.

Matthias was slightly concerned that Lukas's seemingly foul mood would persist, but when Lukas came forward, there wasn't any more irritation in his eyes.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" he asked Matthias.

Matthias couldn't help the spreading smile. "No."

"Good. Come over."

Only Lukas could make a suggestion sound like a command. Or vice-versa.

"Sure," he replied, secretly just a little giddy.

Matthias, Lukas, and Emil boarded a bus and Emil slid into a row, throwing his feet over the second seat. Lukas took the row behind him without a second glance. Matthias sat next to him.

They were shoulder to shoulder and Lukas's hands were in his lap. The patches of sunlight peeking through the clouds made his hair glow warmer.

"Thanks for helping out this week," Lukas said suddenly.

Matthias smiled. "No problem. Is Berwald done then?"

"Yes. The lavender cake was the last order."

"At least you won't be so stacked now."

Lukas hummed. He turned his face and met Matthias's gaze. "I want to remind you that I didn't expect you to only stay for the week. You've still got the job, if you want to keep it."

Matthias's smile spread into a grin. "I know, and thanks, Lukas."

"It sounds like you hit it off with the customers anyway."

Matthias laughed. "I like people. It's no big deal."

Lukas held his gaze for a second longer, then hummed once more and looked back out the window.

Twenty minutes later, the three exited on their stop and walked five minutes more to Lukas and Emil's apartment. Emil was casually chattering away about one thing or another. Matthias wasn't paying much attention as they entered; he was preoccupied with looking around the apartment. It was his first time at Lukas's place.

Lukas had a very clean style – light colors, almost minimalistic in décor but comfortable in design. Matthias thought it fit Lukas perfectly.

Emil flopped onto the couch and Matthias followed Lukas to the kitchen. He sat at a barstool while Lukas pulled out dinner components.

"Do you and Emil cook often?" he asked.

"Emil doesn't cook," Lukas scoffed.

"I don't cook," Emil parroted.

Matthias laughed. "Hey, wait, that reminds me; does Emil go to school?"

"Wow," Emil interjected. "It took him over a week."

Lukas shook his head. "He got his GED when he was fifteen."

Emil hung himself over the back of the couch, facing the kitchen. "Decided high school wasn't really for me, you know?"

Matthias raised an eyebrow. "So do you work at the bakery full time?"

"Yeah. I'm saving up for college. Don't know what I'm going to study, but I'm saving up."

Emil felt around his pocket and withdrew his phone, reading a text. "Leon's got a new game, and pizza. I'm going over to his place."

Before he was out the door, Lukas told him, "Back at 12."

"Yup. Bye."

And then it was Matthias and Lukas. Lukas was chopping vegetables.

"Would you like help?" he asked.

Lukas only nodded and handed the knife to him while he worked on the seasoning for the meat.

They cooked in relative silence. Matthias usually liked to hold a conversation, but found that Lukas's silence was different than most. It almost seemed like he was conversing without speaking. He was just as good maneuvering around Lukas as he was with Emil. He hummed songs to himself and Lukas didn't say a word. When Lukas put the dish into the oven, Matthias spoke.

"How long have you and Emil lived together?"

Lukas didn't respond right away. He first took from a cabinet above the fridge a bottle of Akvavit. And poured two glasses.

Matthias examined the bottle in awe. "This is genuine stuff, where did you get it?"

Lukas's lips quirked up at the side. "I have my sources."

Matthias laughed. "It's hard to find the good stuff here. And it's Norwegian too."

"Of course. You Danes just mess it up."

Matthias caught the playful tinge in his voice and eye. "If that opinion applies to Swedish Akvavit too then I wouldn't tell Berwald that."

"Never. Do you think I'm crazy?"

Lukas smirked and offered Matthias his glass. Matthias followed him to the couch. They sat on opposite sides. The burn of the alcohol was nostalgic.

"To answer your question, Emil came to live with me three years ago," he said more quietly, looking down into his glass.

Matthias sat forward. "What…" he paused, "What happened?"

Lukas's eyes flicked up to his, darkened in the waning light. "My mother left my father when I was seven. He won full custody. He was angry a lot for a while after. I think he used anger to cover up his sadness." Matthias's rapt gaze was locked on Lukas. "Anyway, I didn't find out I had a brother until two years later. By that time, she was already in Iceland and my dad wanted nothing to do with her, so I never got to see Emil. It wasn't until we were older that Emil and I were able to email or call. I was twenty, in the middle of university, when Emil asked me if he could move in with me. He was thirteen, about to start high school. He said it was okay with his parents if it was okay with me.

"I was a little surprised. He'd never reached out this much. I was a little surprised that my mother would let him do that. But I believe my mother is who she is, and when Emil got here he was quiet, reserved, and he reminded me of myself. He's gotten better – he has. He met some friends in school before deciding to go for a GED. The job gives him something to do. I've only wanted to make it as easy as possible for him."

Matthias was touched, he really was. It was evident that Lukas cared for him a lot more than his outward appearance let on.

"I used to wonder, worry, if I were doing right by him."

"I don't have any brothers or sisters," he said. Lukas caught his gaze. "But from what I can see, you've done just fine. He's a good kid."

Lukas smiled. Then he rubbed his face with a hand. "I'm sorry, that was a lengthier answer than you were probably expecting."

"No, no," Matthias replied quickly. "I don't mind."

Lukas swirled his glass, considering Matthias for a moment before knocking back the rest of his drink. The oven sounded and he ventured into the kitchen. Matthias stayed where he was, finishing his own drink.

Lukas came back a moment later, both dinner plates balanced on his arm and the Akvavit in the other. He topped off both their glasses.

He took another long sip before he asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

Matthias felt those flutters in his stomach. "Of course."

"Where did you come from?"

Matthias's mind blanked. "Ah, what?"

Lukas crossed his legs and held his chin in his hand. "How did you end up at our bakery?"

Matthias swallowed. "Well," he began, "I just recently moved here, a few months ago." He paused, but Lukas's eyes were patient, if a little hooded by the alcohol he kept sipping. "I needed a new adventure, a new city. I didn't feel right where I was after I graduated. I've just been exploring the city, really. Then I finally found your place. Actually, it was pretty good timing when you gave me the job. I'd tried place after place but no luck. Emil was pretty insistent – you kind of don't have a choice when he decides something, huh?" Lukas was refilling his glass, again. Was that the third one? "Uh, Lukas?"

After another gratuitous sip, more of a gulp really, Lukas set his glass down with a  _clunk_. He slid over until he was practically nose-to-nose with Matthias.

Matthias resisted the instinct to lean away, realizing that Lukas's face was in full view. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Lukas hummed. "You have freckles. You can't see them from far away. And your eyes are  _really_  blue."

Matthias's heart was pounding and words clogged in his throat. His beautiful eyes were deep in color, his skin flawless and his lips pink.

"Can I ask you another question?" Lukas slightly slurred.

"Yes?"

"I know I'm not an easy person to get along with." He shrugged. "Partly by choice. But you don't care."

Matthias elected to not tell him that it wasn't posed as a question. Instead he replied, a little nervously, "I don't find you hard to get along with."

"Don't you," Lukas said, his eyes flickering between Matthias's eyes and his lips. "I don't know why, but I like you."

Matthias's heart rate sped up again. "Is that a good thing?"

"Probably. You're really cute when you're nervous, you know that? Like a… confused puppy."

He was on the verge of short-circuiting. His heart pounded and his mouth ran dry. Matthias was sure that Lukas was going to kiss him; he was leaning forward more and more, and whether that was because of the alcohol Matthias wasn't sure, but he was sure one way or another he was going to kiss him.

Matthias blinked slowly, his lips relaxing.

"I want you to test a pastry," Lukas said. The surge of anticipation brought crashing down by Lukas's flat intonation disoriented Matthias. He wished he could just pass out right there, and save himself the one-sided embarrassment.

"Okay," he said once he wet his mouth again.

Lukas lurched off the couch and ambled into the kitchen, leaving Matthias with the fleeting waft of his scent. Matthias took deep breaths to calm his pounding heart.

Lukas returned with a pastry on a plate. "I'm thinking of adding these to the bakery," was all he said as he gave the plate to Matthias.

Matthias saw what it was and the embarrassment he previously felt was replaced by unexpected joy and a huge grin.

"You made hindbærsnitter!" Matthias bit into the end and a noise of deep enjoyment escaped him. "This is perfect," he said. "The raspberry, the pastry – this takes me back."

"I'm glad you like it."

"Do you have more?"

"Maybe."

While eating, Matthias was too lost in culinary nostalgia to notice how close Lukas was. Upon finishing, he looked up and found Lukas's face once again very close to his. This time, though, the expression on his face was curious. His eyes flicked to his lips and he looked like he was thinking.

Matthias made to ask him, "What–"

He only registered the sudden swoop of Lukas's head, the flash of his tongue grazing the corner of his mouth, and his lips leaving behind an invisible sear next to Matthias's dimple.

"You had a crumb, right there."

Lukas grabbed the neck of the Akvavit bottle and took a swig, all with his eyes locked on Matthias's.

.

Lukas was driving Matthias crazy.

The one thing Matthias had hoped for was that Lukas drank enough that night to make him forget what had happened.

"I'm a very lucid drinker," he'd said the next day, followed by the tiniest smirk as they both remembered exactly what Matthias was hoping he'd forgotten.

The hindbærsnitter was a hit at the bakery, with a quarter of the product going collectively into Matthias and Emil's stomachs.

Yet even though Lukas had indeed remembered everything, he'd done nothing more the rest of the following week.

"Are you okay? You look like you're waiting for someone to jump out from behind," Emil had told him on Monday.

Essentially, he was. For two or three days after the  _incident_  Matthias was a little more jumpy than normal, convinced Lukas was going to pop out and do something else to him. But he didn't.

As the days passed with reassuring normality, Matthias calmed down. He was less anxious and more puzzled – by himself.

Matthias was  _normally_  a confident guy, borderline cocky. He made the moves, did the sweet-talking. He'd always had fleeting attractions, brief interests. Lillebror Bakeri and its proprietors spun everything he knew about himself on its head.

First, there was the seemingly unlikely duo of Berwald and Tino. Berwald was a silent stoic, edging on intimidating, with an unexpected affinity for classical music – that Wednesday of Matthias's week of mental turmoil was most calming. Tino was a small guy, bright and cheerful, yet on Mondays Finnish death metal kicked off the week. It turned out that Berwald and Tino had been dating for five years, and despite how paradoxical they seemed they had well-established rhythm.

Then there was Emil, who was an instigator for Matthias in one moment and a partner in mischief in another. It didn't matter that they were over five years apart in age; Lukas would dryly state that Matthias was a child anyway.

But Lukas was something else. Until this point, everyone Matthias had flirted with was easy to read, gave the expected expressions and responses. Lukas was either intent on not being one of those people or he was genuinely an outlier – an enigma. After the effects of their Friday night  _incident_  had died down Matthias tried to spark up a flirtation with him again. How could a man who drunkenly licked crumbs from your lips nearly kiss you one moment, then dismiss you as a childish nuisance the next? Though he never was as… close to him, physically, as he was that night, Lukas did seem more inclined to be around Matthias.

Matthias considered that a good step forward.

Friday had become Matthias's music day. It was a normal day – as normal as it could be with the five of them. Matthias was cleaning twice as fast at the end of the day in preparation for the jam session that night. He'd brought his violin and Tino and Emil were eager to hear him play.

On the table in the corner of the kitchen was an array of leftover pastries, chips and salsa, and soda supplied by Emil. Berwald and Lukas were plucking at notes, waiting for everyone to get settled.

"Well?" Tino finally began. "Should we let Matthias start us off?"

"What do you want to hear?" he asked.

"What do you play?" Lukas chimed in.

Matthias smiled. "I did a little classical in high school. Mostly contemporary pieces and some pop covers."

"Anything," Lukas said.

Matthias tapped the bow on his thigh, sorting through his mental catalog of music, confirming nor denying the fact that he was deciding on a piece that would impress Lukas.

He finally decided on a contemporary piece he'd recently learned months ago and readied his violin. He watched the others while he played: Berwald's stern appreciation, Tino's calm delight, Emil's faux-boredom. When he looked to Lukas, he saw dreaminess in those deep blues. The effect swelled in his chest and through his playing. After his solo Matthias began another piece, this time Berwald accompanied. All night they switched off leading and singing and playing.

Tino had nothing but positive things to say about Matthias and his talent. Berwald complimented him after their duet. Emil gave him request after request.

Lukas was the only one who didn't say anything to him. Matthias didn't think it was particularly odd, but the more Lukas looked at him with those dreamy eyes without saying a word, the more intrigued he was by what was going on in his head.

It wasn't until they were done for the night that Lukas approached him and said, "You play beautifully."

Matthias smiled, his fingers itching to reach out and grab his hand. "Thanks," he said.

Berwald and Tino bade them goodnight and Emil left to meet up with Leon. Matthias closed his violin case and looked to Lukas. Lukas was watching him thoughtfully.

"Matthias," he began casually.

"Yeah?"

Lukas had a peaceful expression about him, and Matthias felt just as warm as when he saw Lukas's face while he played.

"Tomorrow the museum of music opens an exhibition on horror film and Halloween. Would you like to go with me?"

A grin split Matthias's face. He felt like a giddy teenager. "Is this a date?"

A miniscule tug at both corners of Lukas's lips told Matthias that it was true.

"Yes. I suppose it is," Lukas replied with his trademark cool, self-satisfaction. He made to move past Matthias, stepping closer than may have been necessary. "We'll go tomorrow after closing, then."

If he reached out now he could tuck Lukas's hair behind his ear, maybe let his fingertips linger on his sharp cheekbone. But Lukas was already walking away. He stopped at the door and paused, turning back to give Matthias a questioning look.

"Are you coming?" Lukas asked.

Matthias followed.

.

Matthias wasn't sure where he stood – where they stood. The night of their date, Lukas had made the first move and held his hand as they walked through the museum.

Matthias was thrilled by this development alone. And Lukas being Lukas, he didn't make a big deal about it. After closing up the bakery they walked toward the museum together, and Lukas slid his hand into Matthias's with only a brief squeeze in acknowledgement.

Matthias was too high up in the clouds that night to question their status. And every day after that Matthias was somehow distracted from asking. Whether the distraction was work-related, Emil-related, or the nervousness Matthias felt when Lukas approached him, he was never able to make the words come out.

Matthias was never this tongue-tied and it threw him off. He was rarely at a loss for words, unable to express himself.

And one day Lukas caught him.

After work, Lukas quietly asked him, "Come over?"

This was the first time it was posed as a question. Matthias ran a hand through his hair and followed him.

Inside Lukas's apartment, Matthias stood slightly awkward in the living room, chewing on his lip while Lukas shut the door behind them.

He turned around and asked, "What's the matter?"

Matthias blinked, admittedly having been lost in thought. "Huh?"

Lukas cocked an eyebrow. "You think too loudly. But I can't really figure you out this time."

Matthias could have laughed. Lukas was usually the opaque one. He shoved his hands into his pockets and bowed his shoulders.

"I can't figure  _you_  out," Matthias replied, met with a look of mild surprise from Lukas. "I've been trying since I met you, and I thought I was on the right track, but now I'm not sure."

Lukas's brow knit together, a shadow of defensiveness coming over his face. "What?"

Matthias shifted from foot to foot, took his hands out of his jean pockets only to shove them into his jacket pockets. "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like you're flirting with me and sometimes you don't talk to me. A couple weeks ago you licked my face, and it might have been because of the alcohol that you drank, or I drank, I don't really remember, but you still did it and I almost fainted. Then, you never said anything after that and I'm wondering, 'Did he make a mistake? A drunken mistake? Should  _I_  do something about it?' And it's hard to get a read on you when you do things like lick my face and hold my hand because I just get really nervous, and I've never been this nervous before. I really enjoyed our date, or… whatever it was, and I thought maybe we could actually be, I don't know,  _together_  and… God, I sound like an idiot."

"Matthias," Lukas cut him off. Was that amusement in his voice?

Matthias stopped talking, realizing that he was talking so quickly that he was nearly panting at this point.

"You're not an idiot," Lukas said. "Just a little dense."

Matthias pouted. "What–?"

Lukas closed the space between them, tilting his head back, his lips right below Matthias's. Matthias swallowed.

"Sometimes I forget I'm not transparent," he said. "I thought I was pretty clearly flirting with you."

Matthias laughed nervously. "I guess we're both dense."

Lukas slid his hands up to hold his face, his blue gaze flitting over his eyes, nose, lips. "And I'm sorry I didn't do anything more about it. I'm not good at making moves – I told you many people don't really get along with me."

"And I usually make the moves. I'm sorry I wasn't more confident."

Lukas sighed. "Matthias –"

His lips parted to finish the sentence, but instead they closed over Matthias's lips. Intimately close, Lukas smelled like spun sugar. Matthias's hands drifted up and his fingers traveled Lukas's sides. When Lukas pulled back enough to speak, Matthias was still chasing his flushed lips.

"To answer a couple questions, I do want you as much as you want me."

Matthias grinned. "You do?" he asked with child-like glee.

Lukas rolled his eyes. "Why else would I make you hindbærsnitter?"

"Because you're a good friend?"

Lukas laughed this time. "You  _are_  dense, I swear. I'm surprised you didn't actually pass out when I licked your face."

Matthias huffed. "I'll remind you that I was pretty close."

Lukas shook his head and pushed up onto his toes to kiss Matthias again.

Elation swirled in his head and warmth spread through his chest. Nerves jittered in his legs and his fingers tingled with desire. Matthias tightened his arms around Lukas and kissed him with every fiber of himself that had dreamed for this to happen.

.

The kitchen was softly lit as the five of them took their places around the coffee table laden with snacks. Berwald had finished a duet with Tino and Lukas began the last piece. When he began playing, Matthias paid close attention to the way his eyelashes fluttered over downcast eyes, the way his hands moved over the guitar, and to the way his mouth formed the words he sang.

When Lukas sang, Matthias was a little surprised to hear gentle Norwegian come out of his mouth. His voice was whisper-light and entrancing.

Matthias acted on whim and quietly readied his violin. In his other jam groups, this was what Matthias was good at: spontaneous accompaniment. When Lukas began the second verse, Matthias harmonized with his violin.

Lukas looked up to Matthias and, though he continued to sing, Matthias held his gaze with a tender affection. Lukas didn't look away for the remainder of the song and as he finished, he smiled softly.

After they had finished cleaning up – Berwald, Tino, and Emil back in the main shop – Lukas caught Matthias as he walked by, wrapped his arms around his neck, and kissed him.

"That was beautiful," he said. "Thank you."

Matthias slid his hands around his back and laid a quick succession of kisses on his lips.  _You're beautiful_ , he thought.

"Jesus, it's about time," Emil's voice said from the doorway, followed by the sound of Tino's hand smacking his arm and a, "Hey!"

Matthias laughed and hugged Lukas closer, burying his nose in his hair.

"You know what, I'm going to stay the night at Leon's. I'll see you tomorrow," Emil said and promptly left.

"Well. Care to come over?" Lukas asked while pulling him by the hand to the door. "I believe there's still a bottle of the good stuff in the cabinet and some extra snitter."

Matthias felt giddiness bubble in his chest and contentment calm his mind.

Matthias followed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are musically inspired, I highly recommend "En Sang Om Fly" by Moddi. It may or may not have been my inspiration to take a musical route with this story. Thanks again for reading, lovelies!


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